


By Chance and Circumstance

by ShahHira



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-04-14 10:59:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4561977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShahHira/pseuds/ShahHira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A horrible day followed by an even worse week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. I've been a lurker for a few months and this has been forming in my head for a bit so I've decided to post this here. This is my first experience with posting stuff for the Internet to see, but that doesn't mean you should go easy on me! If you can give me feedback or criticism, feel free! That's why I'm posting this stuff in the first place (and also I feel like I'm taking more than giving).  
> I have a penchant for writing kinda... action-y, over-the-top scenes, I hope that's okay here, don't worry calmer stuff will arrive. I wanted to put something kinda like the fantasy books I used to read and this is my practice. Though I dunno if this will be well-received considering the stuff I see on this fandom everyday, but hey if no one else will read this, at least I had a blast writing it!  
> Leave me criticism! I need it.

It wasn’t long before he realized he was being followed.

It was either that or Mark was being paranoid and in this heat he was as prone to hallucinate as if he were in the middle of a desert. He tugged on his t-shirt, trying to futilely evaporate the sweat that covered his back. He took off his glasses and wiped at his face, rubbing at the red marks they made, the groggy slaps of his sandals announcing his fatigue. The sun had already set by this time yet there would be no respite from the heat for him. Between that and the overly huge shorts he decided to wear that made him look like one of those annoying surfer dudes, he thoroughly regretted stepping outside.

Oh yes, and the fact that he was being followed. That was bad.

To be honest he was more irritable and angry rather than scared. It was just one thing going bad after another. After an exhausting week of running around the city to scrounge up some mildly news-worthy story for _The Courier **,**_ he’d spent the whole day trying to force something out of his brain onto paper but nothing would sound right. On top of the fact that he’d been stuck on square one ever since, he got lost twice on his way to the park – he thought a change of scenery would jog his creative juices a bit – and he was about to get mugged.

Mark threw a quick look over his shoulder; he wasn’t even halfway down the block when those two were back in sight again. Fuck. He rubbed his neck, sweating yet again but for much different reasons. Getting jumped in the unfamiliar part of town was _not_ how he imagined his first few months in the big city.

He took a mental inventory: a chewed up pen, a notebook filled to the brim with crossed out scribbles and half-baked ideas and a phone. Nothing he wouldn’t feel sorry for being stolen. If it were up to him they could have his phone: it was a piece of shit anyway. He bit his lip. Even if he wanted to he was still too far away to make a run for it…

Argh, what was he thinking? He must be more tired than he thought if his senselessness was getting the better of his reasoning. It was late at night and the only people on the streets were the occasional sleeping bums. Then again, that didn’t help his predicament: since muggings didn’t really happen in his small suburb of Ohio there was no way of telling how this would go down. But now that he was here in LA… _Guess there’s a first for everything,_ Mark thought darkly.

Right, okay. Stay focused. Keeping his beating heart in check, Mark formed a plan: he’d stop, put his hands up, ask what they want and give it to them, then run like hell and they’d be happy. Mark nodded to himself, already feeling better by his quick thinking. His boss wouldn’t be happy with the loss of his only mode of communication, but at least he wouldn’t have medical bills to pay.

Fog covered what little there was left of light. Mark slowed down as he closed in on the street corner, body in the middle of turning to face the pair.

Standing under the streetlight were the most well-dressed thugs Mark had ever seen. They looked more like FBI agents sent to eliminate a target: crisp suits more appropriate for a formal event fitted around the muscled men. They were clean shaven and their clothes had not a speck of dust from the dirty sidewalk. The glint of an expensive watch shone from the harsh light. No, these were not ordinary men.

One of them was reaching for something inside his jacket.

It was at that moment that Mark realized they weren’t after his belongings. They were after _him._

Before he could process what he just saw, Mark’s feet turned and ran around the corner the same time a _bang_ pierced the night silence. A searing line of pain whizzed across the back of his leg as he took off down the street, setting off at a sprint.

Adrenaline fueled his long strides, the pain taking a backseat. There were a million questions flitting in his mind but all he could think of is to survive and get as far away from these crazed men as possible because who sends two professional _agents_ to take out an average Joe like Mark Fischbach? Granted, he was a journalist for a semi-famous newspaper but he might as well be a goddamn intern with the amount of unimportant events he reported on. The last strongly opinionated piece he wrote was on what restaurant in LA served the best Mexican food and he was willing to bet he couldn’t have caused someone _that_ much grief to make him pay for that sentiment with his life.

He glanced back: the pair was hot in pursuit. The fear that currently powered him made him regret doing marching band instead of track. Soaked through and through with sweat, his chest ached for relief as he ducked down streets and small roads. Each footfall slackened his grip on his notebook, every ounce of energy devoted to running. His heart was a lump in his throat, about to jump out any second. None of the buildings looked familiar.

Arms pumping, feet hit hard cement. City lights glared on his glasses. At some point the wound on his leg began to throb with a vengeance, the fiery pain penetrating his conscious mind. It felt like the broken skin was being tugged apart with each step, blood trickling down to his foot. The cheap bastards wanted to cripple him.

He turned into a narrow alleyway. Two tall buildings loomed overhead, enveloping it in blackness. The passage looked like a murky portal to another dimension.

“Shit…” Mark huffed out. It was a dead end.

The wall wasn’t that tall, but it would be too late by the time Mark managed to climb over it. He slowed down to stop just in front of the stone wall, eyes straining to search the darkness, making a pointed effort not to look behind him. His leg hurt, the adrenaline was long gone, and _God_ his head felt like it was going to _explode_ …

He took in a deep breath. Shoving the discomfort aside, he found a dumpster and pushed it with single-mindedness towards the wall. He powered through, an unnatural concentration taking hold.

Over the screeching of metal and cement, Mark heard footsteps coming up from behind. Blood was pounding his head. The darkness was turning a sickening blue across his vision. This was supposed to be his day off. His eyes stung. That was probably more sweat running down his cheeks.

He thought an absurd thought: an image of the grimy earth rising up, defying gravity and sense swallowing up his pursuers, like a psychotic set of jaws chomping down on prey. He took a strange comfort in that vision.

Suddenly, a rumbling came from deep beneath the alley. Mark gripped the metal dumpster tightly. He felt his head grow tight. A loud _fwhomp_ resonated and Mark’s ears popped, muffling the world. At that same moment it was as if something in his head snapped, like a taut string stretched at its limit finally breaking.

It was a pain unlike anything Mark had experienced and that made it all the more overwhelming, like shards of glass had exploded and were digging themselves into the sides of his head and it hurt like a _bitch_. Bright spots burst behind his eyelids and heat flashed down his whole being, delivering an extra punch.

An immeasurable period of time passed before Mark’s surroundings slowly pieced back together, the pain ebbing to a low pulse. The first thing he felt was a cool sensation pressed up to his face; he had somehow ended up on the ground. Very slowly he hoisted himself up and leaned against the alley wall, utterly spent. Spotting his notebook to the side, he walked over shakily and picked it up. The front was covered with God knows what was littering this place. He swiped away most of the debris but some remained stuck. It seemed that the worst was over.

Or was it? It was far too quiet given the fact that three large men had been barreling down this way only seconds ago and it set Mark on edge. He turned around, squinting into the inky darkness. Nothing. He walked forward carefully, disquieted, clutching his notebook tightly. Perhaps he should turn around and forget that this ever happened…

Screw that. He already came this far-

“Whoa…!” Mark took a step forward, and almost fell face-first when his foot didn’t encounter any ground. Chunks of rubble set loose gradually tumbled down into… where exactly? Mark wondered with more than a touch of bewilderment. It was just too damn _dark_ to see anything. Despite the fact that something was very wrong here, curiosity got the best of him and he leaned forward.

A large pitch-black pit of nothingness sat where there had been solid ground before. That was it. There was nothing remarkable about it… except for the fact that only minutes ago this tiny alley did _not_ house a giant gaping hole leading straight to Hell.

“What the fuck…” There was no _way_ he could’ve not seen that. This definitely wasn’t here before.

A scrabbling noise that sounded like it came from directly beneath his feet made Mark jump. He backed away. He couldn’t take any more of this.

He ran off and didn’t look back.


	2. Two Mysteries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which it just wouldn't leave his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first half of this is not good, but this story is just taking too long and even if I spend another week on perfecting this, it would only be a slight improvement.
> 
> Also, I'm leaving to dorm for college on Saturday and classes start Monday so you know what that means... writing will be taking a backseat. I know. I'd rather do this than homework.

“…Heat’s awful, ain’t it?”

Mark looked over tiredly to his co-worker. Ken was smiling as usual, looking unperturbed by the incessant heat bearing down on them. After hopping off the train to the other side of town, the two men were walking to their destination. It was just before noon and Mark was already wishing he was back in his nice air-conditioned office. He tried to smile back but it felt more like a grimace. “Was my suffering that obvious?”

Ken laughed heartily. “It’s only April. Things are only gonna get tougher from here on out. Back home in Mississippi this is a walk in the park.”

“Figures…” Mark groaned.

“Oh, don’t sound so down! The sooner we get there, the sooner we’re back inside.” Ken pointed at Mark’s leg. “Unless your little scrape begs to differ…?”

“Let’s just get this over with,” Mark grumbled, picking up the pace. He didn’t want this to drag on.

It had been a few days since the incident. After running nonstop all the way to his apartment he had triple-locked his door and remained wide awake on his couch until five AM. At one point he had convinced himself it was all some crazy dream until he got up and felt the dried blood still on his leg. It was not one of his finer moments in life.

Needless to say none of his co-workers, friends or family knew about that night. He couldn’t even explain it himself. But what he witnessed was not normal. That much was for sure.

“Over here,” Ken said, standing in front of a small opening. “Dang, this place is dark,” he said as he wandered in, a small camera in hand. “You’d think this’d violate some zoning regulation…”

Mark followed him in. A bright light swept up and around the area, finally stopping at the huge pit in the ground. The place looked even more cramped with the edges of the hole reaching under the buildings. There was damage dealt to the buildings themselves, with trails of cracks running along the walls.

“Good thing we got here before the authorities did. Otherwise we’d never get our chance to snoop around without pissing them off,” Ken was saying as he positioned the camera to illuminate the area. “So, our info for now: no construction vehicles, with reports of loud noises – probably gunfire – and a mini earthquake all taking place in some backwater alley downtown. That tip Chief gave us sounds juicy enough for me to be interested in a hole in the ground, right Mark… Mark?”

Mark blinked. “What? Oh, uh… yeah, I suppose.”

Ken turned to face Mark. “Okay man, fess up. You’ve been acting weird these past few days. You doin’ okay?”

“Yeah, of course- stop shining that in my face!” Mark said irritably, throwing up a hand to shield his face. That wasn’t helping his mood.

Ken lowered the light to his torso but his silence didn’t let up, so Mark continued, “Just, you know, haven’t given myself a break. It’s been… what, five months since I moved here and all I’ve been doing is working, whether it’s for the newspaper or my book...”

“That’s right. You’ve been working on that for some time. How’s that coming along?”

“It’s that damn writer’s block again, but even that’s not the biggest problem.” He walked up to the pit, taking a post next to Ken. “I’ve been saving up money for all the technical expenses like publishing, editing… you know the works.”

“All the power to ya,” Ken toasted. “If you need a second opinion…” He pointed to himself, smirking.

“Anyways,” he continued, “let start investigating this bad boy. Why don’t you go on down there?”

Mark stiffened. “Why don’t you go? You’re more interested in it anyway,” he asked nonchalantly.

“I’d love to, _after_ I do my job,” Ken countered, pointing to his camera. With that, he motioned him forward.

Taking a deep breath, Mark shuffled down into the pit, unsuccessfully avoiding the dirt which was streaking his clothes. He hit the bottom, approximately ten to fifteen feet deep. Even with the fluorescent light glaring from directly above, he couldn’t make out any unusual details. _Six feet under…_ Mark thought morbidly. From the center, Mark walked towards the other side, feeling that familiar tightness in his head growing. He rubbed at his forehead anxiously. Just being back here made him fearful that something like last time was going to happen again.

However, as crazy as it sounded, it felt like the wall of dirt in front of him was… moldable, bendable to his will. A compelling force overrode his hand to reach out and touch it, to _do_ something with it. He couldn’t put just _what_ into words, or thoughts, for that matter. Mark brushed his hand on the wall, fingertips tingling, the tight string in his mind once again making a comeback feeling like it was about to snap-

“Anything interesting down there?” a yell broke Mark out of his trance and he flinched away from the wall, the moment gone just as quick as it came.

“Nothing yet…” he replied, turning back in the direction of the voice, the camera light a practical ball of light above him. He put a hand over his eyes and scanned the area, trying to focus on his job rather than his own mysteries. Then, something caught his eye: beginning in the center, a messy track of footprints led to the edge of the crater, just stopping short. 

Mark made a leap of logic. Were these the footprints of the people who chased him that night? There was no way of knowing that himself. He considered the possibilities. Perhaps if he told Ken about it, he could get in touch with a couple connections associated with the paper. He’d be one step closer to finding out the motive of that night…

“Ken! I found something!”  

______

“How about… this one?”

“How about… no.” The indifferent response was directed at one of the millions of pictures Ken took of their excursion.

“So then what about…”

“No.”

After Mark declared his new discovery, they had spent another hour scouring the area for any other clues they had missed but to no avail. In the meantime, however, Ken had essentially photographed all possible angles of the place and was currently flicking through them at the speed of light, all while shooting Mark the same question over and over.

“How about-”

“No.” Mark squinted. “That looks stupid.”

Ken could’ve waited until they got back to choose the perfect photo, but he just _really_ needed Mark’s opinion right now. The man’s perfectionist streak could really get on his nerves sometimes.

“Oh! This is nice, right?”

“It’s crap.”

They had thirty more minutes left to go on this train ride back to the office, and, while he was grateful to be out of the heat, Mark was eager to sit himself on his comfy desk chair and have quality alone time with his work and nobody bothering him for the remainder of the day. He rubbed at his face, feeling lethargy steadily build up in his muscles and resolved to simply ignore the enthusiastic man to his left, closing his eyes in an attempt to unwind.

A few minutes passed uninterrupted and Mark loosened up, getting settled in his hard seat. The faint clicking noise of the camera accompanied with the rocking train could’ve almost put him to sleep…

“So you wanna tell me who your boyfriend is?”

The casual question made Mark’s eyes fly open and he snapped a bewildered glare to Ken. “Wha-? Who said anything about- Oh.” He paused when he saw the mischievous smile and impish twinkle in Ken’s eyes.

Despite himself, Mark reddened slightly. “You mean Jack.”

Flustered at Ken’s unchanging expression, Mark ran a hand through his hair and sputtered out, “Jack, my _friend_ from college, who’s coming to visit me for a few weeks. _Obviously_ , you’ve heard.”

Ken burst into laughter. “Aw man, you should’ve seen the look on your face! Goddamn, you must be more tuckered out than I thought for something that cheesy to trip you up…”

Mark punched him in the shoulder, his surly mood growing. Ken was having way too much fun at his expense. “Don’t pull that high school shit on me, you asshole,” he retaliated sharply.

“Jeez, sorry dude, lighten up,” Ken pleaded in between laughs, sensing that he went a bit too far. This time he chose his words tactfully, “I actually really want to know more about him. He’s from Ireland, right?” he provided cheerily.

Mark grudgingly gave a small smile at the genuine interest. “I met him in my junior year in this great creative writing class that he tolerated for the credits while I absolutely loved it. He really liked _my_ work, though,” he added as a side note. “He was working towards audio engineering last I heard and got a job back in Ireland. We talked a bit on Skype after college, but I hadn’t heard from him in a long time until a few days ago,” he recalled. “He told me he had big news.”

Ken raised a curious eyebrow. “Oh?”

“He said he’d tell me in person,” Mark clarified. “Until then, I just have to wait a few more days.” Mark’s smile grew bigger. “He’s coming this Friday.”

“Awesome! Invite me over for a few drinks with you two, would ya?”

“I have to warn you, he’s the least stereotypical Irishman you’ll ever encounter: a little on the hot-tempered side, but he’s an extremely lively guy and,” Mark shot him a knowing look, “he’s not _much_ of a drinker.”

A slight pause before Mark supplied, “But I’ll ask.” He nudged Ken. “For your sake.”

The conversation eventually wound down to work matters then settled into an easy silence, Ken scrolling through his pictures once more. Talking about Jack opened up a whole repository of memories Mark hadn’t visited since he graduated. Remembering the antics he and Jack used to do together, Mark smiled nostalgically. Perhaps it was good that Jack was coming on such short notice. It had been a while since he’d done anything spontaneous and he needed that spark back in his life.

He was positive that their week would be memorable.

“Ok, hear me out…” A small, unfortunately all-too-familiar LCD screen slowly made its way into Mark’s vision and he groaned. “Just look at it! I think this is the one.”

Rolling his eyes, Mark took a closer look. It was a distant shot of Mark back in the pit. He looked so… tiny in relation to the whole picture and it gave him a weird sensation. “It’s not half bad,” he eventually grunted.

Ken beamed. “I hope you like it a lot because _that_ is gonna be the cover picture for this story...”

“Have it your way,” Mark shrugged and the two disembarked the train and went about the rest of the day.

______

It was late into the evening when Mark got home. Weary from the day’s extra trip, Mark flopped onto his bed. At the end of a long day, it was his way of relishing the precious stretch of time where mind and body were finally still, away from the hustle and distraction of daily life. He took off his glasses, folded them onto his nightstand and gazed at the ceiling, expelling a lengthy breath.

There was a lot to be done that day but Mark couldn’t keep focus and for once in his life it wasn’t because of his ADD – which was under control by now. That enigmatic hole in the ground just wouldn’t leave his mind in peace and it weighed down his psyche, whittling away at his conscience. Either way, whatever he _did_ accomplish today was a half-assed job after that.

Mark turned his head towards his messy desk and spotted his worn notebook. Thrown atop a practical warzone of assorted papers and an endless amount of sticky notes, there the notebook sat, untouched since that day. Dirt still marbled its surface, starting to cake on and dry upon the cover. Mark suspected some of the pages themselves weren’t spared. But even so, he couldn’t bring himself to clean it, let alone touch it. He just… couldn’t.

His wound began to ache again and Mark brought his attention back to the ceiling, once more in his trance though not as nearly intense. He’d have to change his bandage and he wasn’t looking forward to that; while Mark was no doctor, a sickly smell had begun to emanate from the site of injury and it was not looking pretty. Some random over the counter medication might help alleviate the pain and… somehow it would hopefully all go away by itself.

He had a feeling he was talking about more than just his leg.


	3. The Beginning of Something New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nice dinner. Weird night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love my chapter summaries. Such understatements.
> 
> So things are gonna start picking up fast from here on out. I decided to just cut this story down into just the important parts mostly, since the first 2 chapters are filled with unnecessary stuff but I already wrote them and didn't want to cut them out *shrug* Enjoy!

_Flight 701 British Airways arriving from Dublin, Ireland has just landed in Terminal 3._

The pleasant robotic voice rang through the expansive airport terminal amidst the backdrop of a vast amount of people chatting away in a variety of languages. Putting away his phone on which he had been mindlessly scrolling through Facebook, Mark got up from his seat and walked towards the arrivals section, joining the throng of people at the gate.

Mark stood in the back, arms loosely crossed. The crowd was buzzing with an energy that bordered on a subconscious level; it was hard to feel tired and worn out when the people who surrounded you were waiting with bated breath and hushed joy, ready to explode with celebration when their friends, loved ones, or whoever would come out through those doors. He smiled wistfully. It would be some time before he could go back to Ohio to see familiar faces.

Mark was excited. A bit nervous too, primarily since he knew that his career had mellowed him down quite a bit in relation to the college persona that Jack knew of, but Mark knew that he wasn’t totally devoid of fun… right? He felt old just thinking like this.

Mark spotted a furiously waving arm. No doubt that was him. Mark raised a hand in acknowledgement. Nah, he really shouldn’t be so worried. After all, it was two weeks with his favorite Irishman...

“Hey! Long time, no see!” And one unforgettable adventure.

______

“Are you sure this is a pizzeria?” Jack’s skepticism was not unfounded given that he was gawking at the centerpiece, which was a miniature lamp made of a stockinged lady’s leg.

After stopping by Mark’s place to drop off Jack’s belongings, giving him a speedy tour and asking if he was up for an early dinner, they seated themselves and gave their orders. “Yup. And a bar too,” Mark pointed towards the back. “This place has got the best Sicilian to offer, so don’t be going judging a book by its cover,” he scolded playfully.

“I guess you out of all people should know about that the best…” Jack said, pushing up his sleeves. He had changed from his plane wear into a puffy sweatshirt and pants. He must’ve realized then and there just how little of an exaggeration it was of how hot it could get in this city. Then, he brightened. “Speaking of, how’s your book coming along? It better not still be at ten pages by now,” he wagged a finger.

Mark shot two thumbs up. “I got up to twenty pages!” He got an unamused look. “Kidding. I’m more than halfway through.”

“That’s what I like to hear!” Just then, their orders arrived. When the server left, they continued. “How long until I can buy a copy?”

Mark blew out a breath. “That’s the hard part. I’m so close to finishing _this_ , my dream job, I’m just in shock. All I gotta do is write the rest and scrape up some money it’s… I can’t believe I’m so close.”

“Hey,” Jack said firmly and reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. “I know you. And when you put your mind to something, you won’t stop until you’ve achieved it. I mean, look around,” he exclaimed. “You’re living in freakin’ LA! That’s proof enough. What’s some tiny little thing like a book gonna stop you?” Jack argued, his well-known sass shining through.

Mark nodded solemnly. “Yeah, yeah … I’m just sad that in the end, it won’t mean as much as I think it will. It’s not like I’ll be able to celebrate it with anyone…” He shook his head as if to dispel such thoughts. “C’mon, pizza’s gettin’ cold,” he said quietly.

He took a plate and served, holding it out for Jack to grab. When no response was forthcoming, Mark lifted his eyes to see Jack looking right at him, a big smile on his face and a glint in his eyes. He jabbed a finger in Mark’s direction. “Buddy, I got big news for you.”

Jack snatched up the plate and took an enthusiastic bite out of the slice then pointed it at Mark, mouth working extra hard to speak and chew at the same time. “I sent out a bunch of emails ages ago applying to places that had job openings and pretty recently I got a reply back from this company. They saw my resume, liked what they saw and offered to fly me out to their company’s HQ for an interview. And this place just so happens to be,” he waved his pizza around, “in LA.”

“What?” Mark said, incredulous. “You got a job? _Here?_ In _this_ city?”

“Jeez, slow down with the questions!” he laughed. “I still need to go to the interview and you know, get hired, but I’m all the way out here, why would they go through the trouble of paying for my flight-”

He wasn’t allowed to finish as Mark reached over the table and wrapped his arms around Jack in a fumbly but heartfelt hug. “I’m so happy for you!” He sat back down into his chair and threw his arms in the air. “You big jerk, you should’ve told me sooner!”

Jack only shrugged. “I wanted it to be a surprise. But I also wanted to meet with you as well.”

 The pure and simple sentence struck a chord in Mark and he gulped. “When, uh… when’s your interview?”

“In almost two weeks,” he replied.

“Then that’s plenty of time to catch up!” Mark spoke hurriedly. He counted off his fingers, “We- we gotta go to the beach, maybe do some… some boating and then… and then we gotta go to Disneyland, _twice_ , because you can’t just go once and I have to take you out with my co-workers, they’re _dying_ to meet you-”

“Mark?”

“…Yeah?”

“We’ll figure it out. But for now just eat something before I stuff your face for you.”

______

The restaurant door banged shut, the peal of the chimes fading out into the muggy evening. Bellies full, the pair walked down the dim LA streets, enjoying the weather. Mark was always rushing around town, forever getting stray pieces of work done for _The Courier_ but for now, he was content to lose himself in time.

“Pizza wasn’t half bad,” a quiet murmur came from his left. Jack looked ahead, hands stuffed carelessly in pockets.

A slight wind ruffled Mark’s hair. “And it’s cheap, too,” he responded, matching Jack’s tone.

A snicker. “Is that all you care about?”

“For the time being, yes, it _is_ all I care about.”

Mark didn’t need to see the eye roll Jack would do at his stupid answer. “You’ve let yourself go, man,” a faux gruff voice sounded and he felt a hand squeeze at his arm, pretending to feel the muscles. “How’re you gonna take care of yourself now?”

Mark couldn’t help but giggle at his friend’s childish antics. God, he hadn’t changed one bit. “That’s what you’re here for!” he quipped.

“If I’m your babysitter, I better be getting paid _so_ much to handle your ass.”

Mark scoffed. “You wish…”

They fell into a comfortable silence and Mark breathed in the refreshing air. It was rare that he got to live in moments such as these, given his life as of now. He could remember a time when all he’d do was run into the forest behind his childhood home or sit underneath a tree on his college campus, whittling the hours away. It wasn’t that he didn’t want this life, but it’d be nice to have a break. He looked at Jack, feeling the memories surge up. On an impulse, he threw his arm around him, grinning at the startled grunt.

“In all honesty, I’m really glad you’re here,” Mark said earnestly. “I don’t hate my job, but I can’t remember the last time I did something insanely fun like we used to do back in college.”

He felt a hand slide up to his opposite shoulder. “Do you want the ‘I’m-gonna-get-you-fired-for-your-ridiculous-behavior’ crazy, or just ‘getting-shit-faced’ crazy?”

“Only my favorite Irishman can say stuff like that and get away with both.”

“You don’t _know_ any other Irishmen, Mark.”

“Shut up, you don’t know me.”

He felt Jack’s arm slide back down to the side. “Ugh, you’re incorrigible…”

They arrived at Mark’s building and he opened the main door for Jack. “Like hell I am. I’m a perfect gentleman!” he said, striking a pose with an exaggerated flourish. They walked through and began climbing up the stairs. “Besides, where’d you learn that word? I thought I was the writer here.”

“Now that’s just insulting.” They walked down the hall and stopped in front of Mark’s door. “You’re not the only enlightened person in the world.”

“Says the guy with the ‘sophisticated’ Irish accent.”

“Hey! You just sayin’ that because ye missed this beautiful accent that’s all, eh laddie?” Jack tipped an invisible hat and did a little silly jig.

“I sure did,” Mark laughed. And that was true.

Nonetheless Mark smiled, relishing the opportunity to get a dig out of Jack and turned the key to his apartment. He set his keys down on the console table and turned to start up another argument when he saw Jack rubbing at his head. There was discomfort in his expression.

Immediately, Mark felt bad. “Jeez, what is wrong with me… You should tell me if you getting tired of me dragging you around. I know you had a really long flight…”

“No, it’s not that… my head just hurts really bad all of a sudden…” Jack mumbled. “I was fine before…”

“In any case, you should probably go to sleep. It’s been a long day,” he said.

“Excuse _me_ , sleep is for the weak…”

Mark raised an eyebrow at that. “Don’t tell me that one of your ‘brand-new’ catchphrases you’ve been obsessed with working on.”

Jack gave him a sideways look, a small smirk on his lips. “Got plenty more where that came from.”

“We’ll see about that tomorrow… but for now,” Mark said in his best announcer voice, “I would like to formally welcome you, Jack McLoughlin, to Freedomland!”

A groan. “You’ve been dying to say that for a while now, haven’t you?” Jack tried to scold even as a smile threatened to break out.

Mark gave a toothy grin in reply and Jack punched him playfully in the shoulder. “Fine, I’m going to sleep. Where’s the bathroom?”

“Figure it out, the place isn’t that big,” Mark called out after him, mirth still bubbling inside him. He hadn’t felt this giddy in so long.

“Go fuck yourself…” Jack hollered down the hallway, making Mark smile once again. He had forgotten how loud Jack could get. Shaking his head, Mark went to the living room and retrieved his laptop. It was a little after sunset and he had intended to get some work done until he’d turn in before midnight. And yet it was only took a minute for him to be scrolling through tourism websites, outlining a program for what he and Jack would do together.

If that was how this night would turn out, then that’s what he’d do. Since he was on that train of thought, he picked up his phone with the intention of texting his other co-workers their work schedules. He had Ken’s invitation in mind; he knew Jack wouldn’t turn down a drink.

Mark hesitated. Maybe Jack had plans of his own that he made beforehand. He didn’t want to impose his own agendas on Jack. He should probably ask before he went to sleep. Mark got up and stretched, yawning greatly. Maybe he’d turn in a little bit earlier tonight…

_Thump._ Barely audible, the muffled sound reached Mark’s ears. After a moment of confusion, Mark grew annoyed, walking further down the hall towards the guest room. Were those the water pipes acting up again? He peered down the hall. He could’ve sworn it came from-

_Crash! Bang._ A scream. Mark snapped his gaze to the bathroom door, eyes wide. That didn’t sound normal. Walking fast, Mark approached the door. It was ajar. “Jack?” he called out. “Is everything okay?” No answer. A million scenarios ran through his head. “I’m coming in…” He pushed open the door…

…and stepped into a puddle of water. “Great…” Wet socks. Then he looked up.

His whole bathroom was drenched: water on the basin, the floor, even the ceiling had water dripping down from it. From his vantage point, there wasn’t a dry spot to be seen. Mark stepped through the puddles, soggy socks far from his thoughts. What in the hell happened here? _How_ in the world did this happen? Did his water pipe actually break? Mark examined the room, looking for any signs of damage when his gaze fell on Jack.

Jack was pressed up against the wall opposite the sink, almost hidden behind the door. His gaze was locked straight ahead, unmoving. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“Crap, Jack, are you hurt?” Mark strode to his side and put a hand on his arm, concerned. As soon as his hand made contact though, Jack jumped and sucked in a sharp breath. Jack looked in his direction, glazed-over eyes slowly focusing on Mark, coming out of whatever reverie he was in. There was a fright embedded in his eyes. Before Mark could react, his eyelids fluttered and he sank down to the floor, emitting a long, low moan.

“Urgh, my head…” Jack clutched tightly to his hair, gray tufts sticking out from between his fingers. His head was tucked behind arched legs. Underneath Mark’s hand he could feel a minute shaking.

“Your… your head? Did something hit you?” Mark asked.

The head shook no. “Did you fall or something? Do you need some aspirin…?” Mark unconsciously rubbed his hand up and down Jack’s warm arm, wanting to comfort the man. It was then he realized that Jack himself and the area around him were surprisingly dry.

At some point the shaking stopped, the grip loosening on hair, tense body relaxing. Then, Jack slowly stood up, using the wall for support. The other hand was still pressed to the side of his head and his eyes were still closed. He wavered, almost falling until Mark reached out and grabbed his arm and circled his other arm around to stabilize Jack.

“I just wanna…” Jack slurred, stumbling forward recklessly while Mark tried to catch up. “Sleep…”

“Okay, okay, we’ll get there, just be careful…” Mark soothed even as worry gnawed at him. It took a few minutes but they finally got to the guest room when Mark let go and let Jack crawl into bed, fully clothed. Curling into a ball, Jack fell asleep instantly.

Mark stayed for a moment, looking down at the sleeping figure. Jack really must’ve hit his head hard enough for him to lumber around as if he hadn’t yet recovered from a hangover. Mark was going to have to inspect the place and talk with the landlord tomorrow. “Good night, buddy,” he patted Jack’s shoulder lightly and went to clean up the bathroom. It would take a good part of the night if he didn’t want any damage.

He glanced back once more. He hoped everything would turn out alright.


	4. The Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things were starting to get back to normal.
> 
> Weren't they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HO BOY it's been a while. About 4 months, to be precise. The end of the semester is coming up and I can't really write without inspiration, hence the other, one-shot fics I've been doing, but I finally powered through this one. Though I think I really could've done so much better, I decided to leave this as a filler chapter, but one that wraps up any loose ends that I've created so far, so it's not totally useless.
> 
> Also bear with me guys, I have no idea how journalism works, so if you find any inconsistencies it's because of my lack of research so I'm sorry for that! Don't worry, the next chapter is where things really start to kick off!

Early morning sunlight streamed in from the window, illuminating the room just enough that there was no need to turn any lights on. Mark walked towards the open window, looking out onto the street below. Tiny little cars puttered to and fro and ant-sized people scurried around, going wherever they needed to go. There were many things to take care of that morning, but Mark relished the brief tranquility that he had in this moment, taking a minute to just relax into the glowing sunlight.

He turned away from the window, the plan for today already forming in his head. He’d already talked to the landlord about last night’s incident and he was promised it’d be looked into, but Mark lived enough of his twenty-six years of life to know that it wouldn’t be done anytime soon.

He entered his bedroom and picked up his laptop case from his desk, eyeing his still-untouched notebook. Something uncomfortable stirred inside his stomach and he turned away. There was another thing that wouldn’t be done soon.

After checking and rechecking that everything was in order he walked quickly out his room, mind already racing ahead to the day at hand. As he closed his door, he spared a glance to the closed guest room door. Jack’s room. He hesitated, uncertain. Should he check up on him? He knew he still had plenty of time to get to work so it’s not like he was late. Mark knocked. The benefits of being a morning person…

Surprisingly enough, he heard a “come in!” He opened the door.

Jack was sitting up on his bed, propped from behind by a dozen pillows. Draped over his lower half was a thick blanket. He looked up from the book he was reading. His eyes were slightly sunken, but there was a small smile on his face. “Morning. You going to work?”

Mark cocked his head. “Nice hat.”

Jack touched it self-consciously. “Thanks. It makes me look so Irish, but it’s my mom’s,” he shrugged, as if that explained everything. “By the way, this room is so cold,” he shivered and snuggled deeper into the blankets.

Mark chuckled at the sight. Cute _._ “You know you can turn off the AC, right?” He pointed to the far side of the room. “This place is just too damn hot all the time so I don’t bother.”

“You must be well-off to have an AC,” Jack wondered. “They’re only for them rich folk living in Dublin.”

Mark peered down. “Seriously? Well, now you get to live like a king.”

“Fuck that, just turn the damn thing off.”

“As you wish…” Mark rolled his eyes, but walked over to turn the AC off. However his eyes were drawn to the cover of the book, wondering what it was that caught Jack’s eye. _The Martian._

“Good pick,” he motioned with his chin. “But from what I remember, you aren’t that much of a reader…”

Jack shifted. “I… couldn’t sleep after a while, so I looked around and found this,” he waved the book around. “It’s not bad, actually. I just don’t usually give things like these a chance. I got to the part where he grows the potatoes.” He gave a silly grin. “Now that’s my kind of guy!”

Mark smiled, but it was tinged with worry. “That doesn’t come until like, the hundredth page. How long have you been up?”

“Just… a while. Since… I dunno, four, five?” he said quickly. “It’s probably just jet lag, I’m sure it’ll go away soon enough…”

“Okay, I’m just asking,” Mark raised his hands in a pacifying gesture.

He stuffed them back into his pockets. Mark stood around in the doorway, lips pursed. Birds chirped. An awkward silence ensued.

“I guess… you should go to work now. I don’t want to hold you up,” Jack finally said.

Mark looked up, then nodded slowly. “Right. Yeah.” He turned. Then, “Try not to strain yourself today, okay? I won’t be back until the evening so…” He stopped, then faced Jack. “Just take it easy,” he said with a smile.

Jack returned it. “Doing shit-all is my type of vacation, Mark,” he assured and stretched out, getting more comfortable in his position. “I’ll be fine.”

Words unspoken hung in the air, but Mark refrained. He continued on his way.

______

“…Over the past year, the mayor had introduced a promising approach to renovate downtown LA, finally addressing numerous concerns relating to poor infrastructure and maintenance that has been prevalent since… since…”

Mark mumbled under his breath, turning to his computer monitor to click through the many tabs that were open on his browser, searching for the correct article to come up with an accurate statistic. The Chief could get very picky if he wanted to, and Mark did _not_ need that today.

Mark made an effort to keep focused on the task at hand. He had to work extra hard for the upcoming week-long vacation he had planned, and there could be no slacking off on his part if he didn’t want it to be retracted last-minute.

Taking off his glasses Mark rubbed at dry eyes, letting out a long sigh. But that prospect seemed unlikely, with the way his mind was wandering. Things were just getting stranger and stranger with each day and at some point, no amount of putting it out of his mind would be possible without going stir-crazy. Leaning forward he rested his head in his hands, gazing dully through half-lidded eyes, hardly registering the glowing screen hurting his sore eyes. His head lolled downwards, sleep ready to pounce on overworked eyelids. A nap would sound _really_ nice right about now…

Then, he felt knuckles tap lightly on the top of his head: once, twice, three times. “You sleepin’ on the job, Mark?”

Mark tried to form a sentence, but all that came out was a forced groan. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know whom the chipper voice belonged to. Leaning back in his chair, Mark opened his eyes to see Ken standing behind his monitor.

“Hi, sleepyhead. Forget your coffee today?” Though the tease was pleasant enough, there was an uneasiness in his stance. Seeing the unimpressed look on Mark’s face, he pushed ahead, “So, about that thing you mentioned, back in that alley?” Ken said, folding his arms. “I got you the info I promised.”

It took a while for the sentence to process through his ears, but at that, Mark felt a glimmer of hope. Finally, something that can give him some answers. Or at least, a start. Work forgotten, he sat up in his chair. “Really? You mean for the footprints?”

Ken nodded slowly. “Yeah. But, you’re not gonna be happy.”

He seemed to look everywhere but at Mark. “It’s basically a whole lotta nothing. That was odd enough, considering footprints can give you a lead of some sort. The only thing my sources managed to find was the shoe company. Oxfords, if you’re curious.”

He said all this with a strangely sober voice, and whatever hope had risen up in Mark was now gone as quickly as it came. Back to square one.

Still, he appreciated what Ken went through for him. He let out a small breath. “Damn. Bummer. In any case, thanks for taking the time out to help me out with this.”

Again Ken nodded, but he looked even more worried. Finally, he met Mark’s eyes. “Look, man, I’m really sorry for that day. I knew you were pissed off and all, but I still kinda… riled you up, you know what I mean?” He rubbed at his neck anxiously, meekly. “So I’m sorry for that.”

The apology came out of the blue, and it caught Mark off-guard. It wasn’t what he was expecting. Nevertheless, the sincerity in the words lifted Mark’s spirits, and he managed to sputter out, “Oh um, really, it’s not that big of a deal. I was just… intolerable that day. We all have those days,” he shrugged, throwing him a generous smile.

And just like that it was like a weight was lifted off of Ken’s shoulders, and he was back to his normal, happy self. “Right, well! Nice chattin’ with ya, but I gotta go before word gets around I’ve been neglecting my duties. I’ll see you later.” With a wave, he walked out into the hallway.

Mark stared after the closed door. Closing his eyes, he sucked in a deep breath and exhaled, attempting to clear out the muddled images and thoughts out of his head. He soldiered on with his work.

______

When Mark walked through his apartment door in the evening, two things immediately stood out to him: one, something was cooking in his oven – and it smelled _delicious_ – and two, there were loud noises coming from the living area, specifically from the TV, which was followed up closely by one, long, frustrated “ _fuuuck!”_

Mark was giggling before he could even process why and he shut the door, padding quietly inside. Seated on the couch was Jack, staring irritably at the large TV screen that was currently filling with brilliant, colorful explosions.

“You really need to get better at Rocket League,” Mark commented, earning a jerk of surprise from Jack.

The man in question twisted around. Swaddled in the thick blanket from his room, Jack looked to be quite comfortable lounging on the couch. Tiny blue eyes peered up at him. “And _you_ need to learn how to live like a normal human being,” he gestured towards the kitchen. “No _food_ in the fridge? How do you survive?”

Shit. It had completely slipped Mark’s mind that he had to shop for groceries this week before Jack came over. Shaking his head Mark refocused on Jack, searching for any signs of fatigue. Whatever evidence there was of last night was all gone. He should take that a good sign, but his gut says otherwise.

Jack kept on speaking, “So I went out and bought you some stuff – don’t worry the shop was down just a few blocks. And I fixed up something you might like,” he got up and walked over to the oven, motioning for Mark to join. “I think it’s ready now.”

Grabbing the handle he pulled it open, an enticing smell gently wafting up. Mark peeked inside and took in a deep breath: lasagna, with extra cheese according to the bubbling surface. He suddenly realized he hadn’t eaten anything since his paltry lunch of a protein bar.

“Sorry, I kind of took over the kitchen,” Jack smiled sheepishly, arms loosely crossed in an attempt to warm himself in absence of the blanket. He must be quite cold in that t-shirt, Mark absently noted.

He gave Jack a squeeze on the shoulder, feeling a slight shiver under the thin material. Mark made a mental note to increase the thermostat. “What did I say, you’re always here to take care of me…”

An elbow jabbed at his ribs in response, “You big baby…”

Jack took out the dish from the oven, setting it on the stove. And for some reason the whole thing just struck Mark as domestic.

Just then Mark noticed the half-filled grocery bags on the counter. “Wait, did you spend _your_ money–”

“It’s no big deal, I used my credit card so I didn’t take any of your ‘American money,’” Jack rolled his eyes as if it were the funniest thing he’d said so far.

“Yeah… but how much did you pay…”

“Mark.” Jack’s voice dropped, taking on a firm tone. “Seriously. It’s no big deal.”

He was about to protest once more but under Jack’s unyielding gaze, Mark thought twice. “Alright, if you say so,” he reluctantly acknowledged. Maybe this could wait until tomorrow, when he’d muster up the energy to hassle him again.

For now, food and good company was calling out to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTW I read through this numerous times and I think my writing style has changed a lot over the past few months, especially over the last few fics. Lemme know what you guys think!


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